Laughing Through the Pain
by riversgirl75
Summary: George Weasley struggles to see what his wife finds so funny at a time like this.


Hermione tiptoed from the bedroom, closing the door and charming it to shut silently behind her. She visited the bathroom, got a drink of water, and then began pacing the length of the living room.

 _You can do this,_ she said to herself. _You are Hermione Granger, champion of the underprivileged, the repressed, the oppressed. You can -_

"OW!" She bent double and panted heavily for a half a minute or so.

 _Okay, try that again,_ she thought as she resumed walking back and forth. _You are strong. You have faced down dementors, Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord. Just stay calm and -_

"Ohhhhhhhh!" Again, bent over, crouching low, panting.

"Hermione? Honey? Where'd you go?" George opened the door to their room and entered the hallway groggily, calling out for his wife.

Hermione straightened up and took a deep breath.

"I'm in here, love," she responded, forcing her voice to sound normal.

The tall redhead moved sleepily into the room, his hair pointing in every direction, his bare feet padding across the floor.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, and she stopped in her tracks and leaned against the arm of the couch.

"No, I think I have heartburn," she responded, waving her hand as if she were waving away a fly.

"Oh, okay. Then I'm going back to - HERMIONE?!" George's eyes flew open in wonder and fear as his bride slid off her seat, clutching her stomach and crouching on the floor, her breathing labored.

"I'm...it's...unhhhhhh," she verbalized, straining through the pain.

"'Mione, are you in labor?"

"Just figured that out, did you?" She stood up straight as the sharp constriction subsided and glared at her husband.

"You said it was heartburn," he retorted defensively.

"Yeah, well, it's not," she snapped, resuming her pacing, one arm supporting the weight of her belly, the other waving angrily.

"Why are you taking this out on me?" George asked, bewildered. "The baby's coming - aren't we supposed to be excited?"

"George, if you felt the way I feel right now, you'd be struggling to be excited about what's happening to your body. It feels like every five minutes or so the baby's trying to - OWWWWWW!"

George rushed to her side this time and she leaned into him, squeezing his arms with a vice-like grip, shockingly strong, really, for such a petite witch.

"Love, I don't know how to tell you, but that wasn't five minutes. How far apart are these contractions?"

Blowing out through her mouth, Hermione looked up in thought.

"I don't know, maybe two minutes?"

"Merlin, Hermione! We have to get to St. Mungo's!" He pulled away from the bushy-haired woman's grasp and raced through the house, grabbing jeans and a tee shirt, trainers, and the bag they had packed for the hospital a couple of weeks ago. He hopped back into the room on one foot, stumbling to get his shoes on and unceremoniously fell flat on his face.

"Oof!"

Scrambling back up, he rubbed his nose woefully and looked over his shoulder at his wife, his blue eyes bulging out of his head.

"Don't just stand there, 'Mione! Let's go!"

Hermione watched her husband's hysteria build and couldn't help the giggles escaping her lips. She covered her mouth with one hand, but the sound of her laughter was easy to hear.

George froze just outside the fireplace and gave her an odd look.

"What? What? WHAT!?" He put his free hand on his hip and stared frustratedly at the pretty witch.

"It's just, I'm the one in labor, and you're freaking out worse than me! Oh, the look on your face!" And this time when she doubled over she discovered that laughing actually helped her breathe through the contraction.

"That's it." George dropped the hospital bag into the fireplace and strode over to Hermione. When the contraction was over and she was upright once more, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the floo.

"George! Put me down!" She smacked his arm a couple of times, but only half-heartedly.

"No way, Mrs. Weasley," the soon-to-be-father insisted. "We're off to have a baby, and if laughing at me is the best way to help you through this, then I promise to do everything I can think of to keep you giggling. Besides," he kissed her on the tip of the nose, "that's my child in there, and I think laughter should be the first sound he or she hears, don't you?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around George's neck and kissed him deeply.

"I love you, Mr. Weasley. But before we go, you may want to zip up your fly."


End file.
